


Seven Days

by Liraeyn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Afterlife, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birth, Execution, F/M, Forced Sterilization, H and L is L, Infinity Stones, Marriage, Odin's F- Parenting, Oops, Stillbirth, Suicide, suggested infanticide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:42:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25180333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liraeyn/pseuds/Liraeyn
Summary: Every moment in history happens on one of seven days. Those same seven days when the world was made, the ones we named for gods. But the gods who gave their names to those days, are far from perfect. They have so many flaws, and those will cost the universe dearly.
Relationships: Frigga | Freyja & Loki (Marvel), Hela & Loki & Thor (Marvel), Hela & Loki (Marvel), Hela & Thor (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Sigyn (Marvel), Sif/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 17





	1. Saturday

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own this. It’s based off a Norsekink prompt that’s been filled at least four times already, so you’ll probably recognize it.   
> I know, I know, I should be working on Gersemi, but this just grabbed my head and wouldn’t let go. Enjoy. Or whatever the word is.   
> Warning: maximum angst, major character death, gore, terrible Asgardian morality. Proceed with caution. 

For the seventieth time that morning, he ran through the program for the evening’s coronation. Much of it resembled a wedding, which in a way it was: the new King of Asgard, wedded to his kingdom. Shame there wasn’t somewhere in there for “speak now”. 

First, a procession, of all the relevant people, and some part of Loki was inordinately pleased that he was to be considered “relevant”. Mother, Father, Sif, the Idiots Three... 

And of course, Thor, making a late, dramatic entrance just to bask in the glory of the countless spectators gathered to witness a once-in-several-lifetimes event. Royalty of Asgard lived longer and aged more slowly than any of the common people. It was just the way they were. Blessings of the All-Father. 

The traditional vows were as old as the royal line itself, and doubtless Thor had them memorized, as did Loki, but did he ever think about them? Would he take a moment to make sure, before agreeing? 

Of course not. This was, after all,  _ Thor _ . He was absolutely useless at anything that couldn’t be solved by smashing something with Mjolnir. He was absolutely not ready for this. 

The plan for the coronation then moved on to a flamboyant (as if there were any other kind on Asgard) proclamation of the new king, much cheering and applause, a short speech, and dismissal to the inevitable feast. 

Being who he was, Loki had intentions of interrupting the process right around the exact moment when Thor would officially become- 

“Loki.” 

Talking of interruptions... 

Loki spun on his heel, putting on his best, fakest, so-obviously-not-glad-to-see-you smile. The one Father would always see straight through, but couldn’t  _ quite _ criticize. 

“Something I can help you with?” 

Odin glared at him. “What are you plotting?” 

Once in a Convergence, Odin actually noticed when Loki was plotting something of the nefarious variety. That, or after more than a millennium, he was just playing the odds. 

“Well who says I’m plotting anything?” 

The glare intensified. Loki returned it for a long moment. Then Odin just sighed. 

“I’ll give you the choice, then. You can wear these-” he brandished a pair of bracelets Loki instantly recognized as suppressing the wearer’s seidr, “-until well after the coronation, and no questions asked, or I can put a spell on you that would force you to truthfully answer any questions I  _ do _ ask-” 

Before Odin even finished speaking, Loki grabbed the bracelets and snapped them on. “There. Happy?” 

So much for coronation interruptis. 

X 

That afternoon, Thor and Loki were having “one last sparring match, before you’re king and it’s treason” when a servant interrupted them. 

Just once, Loki would like to actually  _ finish  _ something. 

“My princes.” 

_ Something _ Loki couldn’t name sounded an alarm, but what? The look on the servant’s face? Some sort of premonition? Nothing he could place, but he now  _ deeply _ regretted agreeing to wear the cuffs that he had to keep pulling his sleeves over. Thor was oblivious. Thor was  _ always _ oblivious. 

You know  _ nothing _ , Thor Odinson. 

“The All-Father requests your presence in his private chambers.” 

Thor dropped Mjolnir in the dust and stalked off without a second thought. Come to think of it, probably without a first thought, either. Loki squashed a hope that Odin was summoning them to postpone the coronation. The Nine Realms were never that lucky. 

Maybe his parents just wanted one last moment with just the four of them, before everything changed forever. That would actually be nice. 

Loki sheathed his dagger at his waist and set off, only to be accosted by the now-even-more-nervous servant. 

“Forgive me, my prince, but he specified no weapons were permitted.” 

Now, far more alarm bells. They didn’t go  _ everywhere _ armed, but it was hardly normal for weapons to be specifically disallowed. Bad news then, must be, and Father was worried about how they would react. Loki wouldn’t have even minded except those cursed shackles meant that he was absolutely,  _ completely _ defenseless. Lacking any alternatives, he unstrapped the knife and dropped it in the dust for the trainers to deal with. 

Swallowing his fear, he followed his brother to what felt increasingly like certain doom. 

X 

Why on the Nine was Father summoning them  _ now _ , and why was Loki so nervous? Unless he’d pulled some trick, and not gotten caught until just now. Figures. Loki couldn’t let one day go by without trying to steal Thor’s thunder, quite often literally. 

That explained the no-weapons order. Father would punish Loki, somehow, and didn’t want Thor interfering. One last act as King before retiring? He probably didn’t trust Thor to handle Loki, and Thor had to admit he wasn’t exactly wrong if so. Loki was and always would be his baby brother. 

Their parents chambers were spacious and luxurious, kept immaculate by Mother’s spells rather than servants to allow the royal couple full privacy. Thor assumed it was shrouded from Heimdall’s gaze as well, but he never thought on that for too long. He was glad to have Loki for a brother, and that was all. 

Odin stood to greet them as they entered, his face absolutely expressionless. The door closed and  _ locked _ behind them, and something in Thor said that maybe Loki should have been nervous. 

“Where is Mother?” Loki’s voice was tense, terse. 

“With Jorgamundr.” 

Well  _ that _ escalated quickly. 

Seconds passed, and Thor slowly realized that Odin hadn’t been making some horrible joke. Loki hadn’t said a word, just fists clenched, matching Odin’s expression or lack thereof. He must have known, or suspected, the truth. 

Jorgamundr the serpent circled Asgard’s edge, binding the planet together. He’d lived there for eons, consuming the bodies of traitors. Surely Father didn’t mean- 

“What-” Loki began, only to cut himself off. Thor had to agree, though. They’d been fine this morning, happily sharing breakfast with no sign of trouble to come. This had hit like lightning out of a clear blue sky. Which was Thor’s job. 

Odin continued. “I suppose it is painful. You are to be king. You need to understand, betrayal can come from anywhere.” 

With a wave of his hand, Odin summoned Gungnir. Light burst from it and slammed Loki to the ground. It looked to Thor like his little brother was trying to scream, but no sound actually happened.  _ Oh. _ Loki hadn’t cut  _ himself _ off, Odin had done it to him. 

“Loki, what did you do?” 

At that, Loki stopped moving completely and just glared at him. Thor knew a brief flash of guilt for just assuming, but was that really his fault? Loki got up to  _ so _ much mischief. But no, this was obviously far beyond his usual antics of dyeing Sif’s hair or slicing one leg off of Volstagg’s chair or painting Fandral with indelible costume makeup or- 

“I had a daughter, before you.” 

Okay, out of all the things Thor had expected Odin to say,  _ that _ certainly was not on the list. How many more lightning strikes in one day? Unless this were some sort of dream, or test... 

“What happened to her?” More relevantly, why did Thor feel like  _ he _ was in trouble? He’d done  _ nothing _ . Nothing other than wake up, which considering how this day was going, had most definitely been a mistake. 

“She betrayed us to Laufey. She bore him a  _ child _ -”    
  
Loki flinched, tried to sit up, but Odin slammed Gungnir into his chest with a burst of green-gold that somehow made Thor think a spell had  _ ended _ , rather than  _ began _ , one that he’d not even realized had been going on. Not that he had an eye for that sort of thing, that was Mother’s- 

In an instant, Thor snapped out of whatever haze had clouded his mind. Loki was his  _ brother _ (nephew?), no matter where he’d come from. He’d never thought too hard about that sort of thing anyway- what sibling ever did? 

“Loki-” 

Loki was gasping for air as Odin stripped his magic from him, fingers turning blue and shaking badly. Thor smacked Gungnir to the ground with his bare hands, only now realizing he’d left Mjolnir on the training grounds. He deeply regretted that fact as he wrapped his arms around his little brother, clutching him as tightly as he could. Probably too tight for him to breathe. If he had his hammer, would he just fly out of here? 

Go where? 

Thor realized he was shuddering violently, drawing a concerned look from Loki’s newly red eyes and the surrounding deep blue. Thor believed Odin’s claim, but Loki was still Loki. Still Thor’s best friend. He couldn’t imagine life without him. 

“Why are you telling us this now? Why tell us at all?” 

“My son, you are to be king. You must understand what it means to be betrayed. And what is to be done with traitors.” 

“He’s done  _ nothing _ .” 

At that, Loki tensed, just slightly. Thor cursed internally.  _ What did you do, brother? _

Odin shook his head. “Not him, that traitor daughter of mine. Traitors don’t deserve to have living children.” 

_ What? How many entire families has he wiped out because of some perceived betrayal?  _

_ Nice work, “future king”. You didn’t even notice. _

“I’m not going to let you touch him.” 

“Oh,  _ I _ won’t be.” Odin drew a dagger from his waist and extended it to Thor. 

“ _ No _ .” 

“You want to be King. This is the price.” 

“I would rather die.” 

Predictably, Loki stiffened in shock and tried to push Thor away. That stung, more than Thor had expected. Was it so foreign to Loki that Thor would willingly die to protect him? Maybe he’d just skipped straight to assuming  _ everyone _ was betraying him today. Wasn’t much of a leap, truth be told. 

At that, Odin smirked. “I believe you. But ask yourself, are you truly willing to hand the throne back to me, knowing the truth of it? How many more deaths would result?” 

_ I don’t care. Loki’s my  _ **_brother_ ** _. _

Thor shook his head, dragging Loki to his feet. “No. I  _ won’t _ .” They would just leave, find  _ somewhere _ to go where they couldn’t be found- 

Loki shook his head, still under whatever force kept him from speaking. 

“Brother? What-” 

Bearing an air of resignation, Loki took the dagger from Odin and handed it to Thor. Thor accepted it by instinct, brain not processing why Loki wasn’t fighting back. Even gagged and bound with some unknown shackles that Thor had finally realized were discreetly hidden under his sleeves, Loki shouldn’t be this accepting of death. This was so  _ wrong _ . 

Loki pointed to his heart, then waved his hand near his chin, and Thor flashed back to an evening in Frigga’s garden where she taught them a song with a sign for “mother”.  _ Oh. _ Translation:  _ just do it, and I’ll be with Mothe _ r. Both of them, gone in one day. He’d never thought that the grand beginning of his glorious reign would bring with it so many endings. 

“Loki...” 

Loki laid his hand on Thor’s cheek, then took the hand holding the dagger and held it to his own chest. Easy enough then. Nothing he hadn’t done before countless times. Except  _ Loki _ this time, and this was so utterly  _ wrong _ . But he had to do it. It wasn’t right to sacrifice all of Asgard just to save one life that no longer valued itself. Even if it  _ was _ the one life he would have sacrificed all Nine Realms to save. 

“I love you.” 

Their eyes met, and Loki nodded. Thor murmured a soft apology and  _ pushed _ . It felt so  _ wrong _ , sliding in with difficulty, than too easily, than hitting something even tougher that must have been his heart. Buried to the hilt, it  _ pulsed _ a few times before becoming horribly still. Thor withdrew it, and Loki collapsed in his arms. 

The clatter of the dagger on the polished gold floor and Thor’s own heavy breathing were the only sounds to break the grim silence. He gently laid his brother on the floor, then turned to the man he would never call Father again. No words came. 

Completely expressionless, Odin opened the door to the room and waved a hand out of it invitingly. Thor shouldn’t have been shocked. That cavalier attitude towards what had just happened hardly stacked up against engineering it in the first place. 

One last glance at Loki, who might have been sleeping with the bloodstains hidden by his dark clothing, yielded a gruff “Just leave it; you can deal with it later”.  _ It. _ Not even “him” anymore. Thor made a mental note to “deal with” Odin first thing after the blasted coronation. That would feel good. 

“Should I-” his voice sounded hoarse, but no matter, “-at least clean up first?” 

Odin glared at him. “No. You don’t need to be ashamed of the blood. Besides, the common people won’t even notice.” 

With a dark expectation that Not-Father was probably correct, and his brother’s blood still wet on his hands, Thor went out to a cheering crowd to be crowned King of Asgard. 

X 

“My King.” 

_ That voice. _

Thor stood on the edge of the planet, face-to-face with Jorgamundr. The giant serpent, large enough to swallow a horse without flinching, kept himself behind the wall surrounding Asgard. Beyond that, anyone venturing into his domain was considered his prey. Tempting, after the day’s events. But there was one thing left to do before he could consider such an act. He turned to face the self-deposed king. 

“What happened to Mother?” 

Odin sighed. “She protested, long ago, when I had the traitor executed. I told her from the beginning what I intended for the traitor’s child, but she still objected when the time came. Perhaps I should not have allowed them to bond, but-” 

“What. Happened.” 

“I told her if she couldn’t handle what was to be done, then she was a traitor just as much as my once-daughter, and she knew what that meant. She said nothing after that, just walked into the water without looking back. I suppose she may have hoped I would call her back, but I had everything I needed from her a long time ago.” 

“Did you ever love her? Or any of us?” 

“What was the point?” 

Even after everything,  _ that _ still hurt. 

The two of them watched Jorgamundr’s scales shift and glitter in the starlight, reflect in the smooth water, for a long time. Then Thor broke the silence. 

“Guess what I think you should do.” 

Wordlessly, Odin entered the water, scattering the stars on its surface into ripples. As soon as he crossed some invisible line, the serpent lunged, and soon enough, the night was peaceful again, ripples fading away to mirror-smooth again. 

It did nothing to fix Thor’s twice-broken heart. 

X 

“My King.” 

Thor spun on his heel, brief irritation at being kept from sleep fading quickly as he realized who had spoken. 

“Sif, we’re not in ceremony. Call me Thor in private, and that’s an order.” 

Breaking her formal demeanor, Sif threw her arms around him. With some reluctance, he responded. He wanted his mother, his brother. Some part of him wanted the father he’d thought he had, but that part was small and fading fast. 

Sif broke away and put her hands on his shoulders. 

“Where’s Loki?” 

Thor glanced at a nearby clock. “A good twelve hours, and  _ finally _ someone notices.” 

“There were rumors even before the coronation that the Queen had been executed...” 

“Unlike most rumors about the royal so-called family, that one’s actually true.” Thor realized he was still holding a mug of ale, and downed it in one go before smashing it on the ground with what Loki would have called “excessive force”. 

“Whether it was true or not, it worked. No one wanted to question anything, least of all why Loki was  _ also _ missing, or why you had blood on you. Thor, you know I’m your friend. You can tell me anything. I  _ promise _ .” 

Thor burst into tears. 

X 

Loki hadn’t moved, and Thor had to suppress a wave of disappointment that it wasn’t just one of his usual tricks. Their entire lives, it had seemed Loki was incapable of fulfilling expectations. 

“I’m sorry, Thor.” 

“Thank you, Sif.” 

Silence fell again. 

“Thank you, also, for coming to find me. No one likes to acknowledge that the mighty King of Asgard needs help just as much as anyone else. More so, even.” 

“Well, I l- I care about you more than I can really explain. Just- take care of yourself, okay? Asgard needs you.” 

Sif left to her own purposes, and Thor sat alone with his baby brother. Part of him wanted to run after her, kiss her, proclaim his love in return, make her his queen- 

Would he be any good at having a family? He hardly had a good example of how to be a husband, or a father. And yet, it was expected of him. At least he had plenty of time to figure it all out. 

If only something could be done about Loki. 

X 

Saturday is the day of Saturn, father of the Olympians. Knowing from past experience that a son would ultimately, inevitably overthrow his father, he consumed each of his children upon their births. His wife ultimately hid the youngest child, who once grown turned on his father to save his siblings. Destiny fulfilled itself, because Saturday’s child works hard for a living. 


	2. Wednesday

Morning came, and Thor took it as an insult. How dare the world move on as if nothing had happened when he’d lost his entire family yesterday? Mother gone without so much as goodbye, Loki dead in his arms by his own hand, Fa- no,  _ Odin _ , never having been the hero Thor had worshipped him as. 

And yet, the heavenly bodies played out their usual roles with no regard for the lives lost or shattered beyond repair with each rotation. No wonder some thought them to be gods. 

The Midgardians once worshipped the Aesir as gods, or at least the royal family, but that was almost laughably wrong. Thor himself had been taught to ask the All-Fathers for help when needed. Never again. He knew only that he himself was alive. All else was suspect. 

Something had to be done with Loki. Thor had laid him in the stasis field that had protected Odin during his Sleeps, praying to anyone listening that somehow, it would bring his little brother back. Never mind that Loki had wanted to die, at that specific moment. Thor had to hope that his own willingness to raise the dead would restore his brother’s will to live. If, of course, he managed to restore the spark of life. No sign of that, thus far. 

Most of Asgard’s people had already gone back to their lives like nothing ever happened, which for all they knew, it hadn’t. What difference did it make to the average person who sat on the throne? The laws rarely changed, wars were more common but less dependent on the whims of any particular regent, the speeches sounded much the same out of any mouth. 

“King of Asgard” was a polite way of saying “someone to blame for every problem in the Nine Realms”. Blame, fault, scapegoat, sacrifice. Less of the glorious reign he’d dreamt of for as long as he could remember. 

Certainly not without Loki beside him. If that was his lot, he didn’t want it, except there was no one else to take over. But what good was he, too distraught over one death to even handle a funeral? Life had to go on. 

Tomorrow night, that would have to be it. He couldn’t stay in this room forever. 

X 

His dreams were of prayer, the oldest one in the universe:  _ To anyone listening- Help! _

X 

Loki hit the ground hard, but couldn’t recall having fallen. No pain, no scrapes, no bruises. There couldn’t be. 

He’d gone beyond all harm, but also beyond anything good. Never again to hunt with Thor, to watch a sunset, a sunrise, a flower bloom. Never to have a family of his own. 

He rolled over onto his back and sat up, only to flinch in shock at the two faces inches from his own. 

_ Mother _ , he tried to say, but his voice still would not come. 

Frigga wrapped her arms around him, but he felt nothing save a shred of warmth which may have been nothing but a prayer. The other woman looked so much like him that first he thought she was his reflection, then realized she must be his real mother. No, not his  _ real _ mother, not with Frigga so near. His  _ other _ mother. Of the four people whom he could have called his parents, only his mothers deserved it. He wished he knew her name. 

No one spoke a single word. The nameless woman laid her hands on his chest, and it throbbed with the first pain in what felt like a lifetime. Heat washed through him, but he only realized what she was doing when she gasped and crimson blossomed on her own chest. 

_ No _ , he tried to say, tried to shake his head, but he couldn’t move.  _ Let me stay here. I can’t go back to a world that hates me and a “father” that wanted me dead every single day of my life. _

Other Mother smirked at him -so familiar, that look, absent the blood now streaming down her cheek- and pointed to a shadowy figure passing by, one he would know anywhere. Dead, then, ingloriously. Judging by the gait, it had been painful.  _ Good. _

Warmth returned in a rush, and Hel -what else- faded around him, to be replaced by brilliant gold. 

X 

Thor awoke to Loki thrashing about violently beside him, and had to pinch himself. 

“Loki? Can you hear me?” 

“No.” 

At that, he burst into tears. 

“Welcome back, little brother.” 

X 

The brothers -Thor knew he would never think of Loki as anything else- watched the suns set in a blaze of fiery golden red. Loki hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words, and only when Thor prompted him. He sat in silence, sipping at wine with his usual air of wanting to get drunk, yet disliking the drink itself. 

Thor tried broaching a few subjects such as Sif asking after him, or Odin Not-Father’s death, but to little result. Mother had gone without a goodbye, or a chance to fight back, or even so much as one last look. There was no fixing that. 

Darkness wrapped around Asgard like a blanket, and Loki fell asleep on Thor’s shoulder. As gently as he could, he lifted Loki into his arms and carried him back to the palace. Despite Thor’s best efforts, Loki stirred fitfully a few times and muttered something Thor guessed was “Where are we going?” He responded with a “To your room. Now shush.” 

Loki’s bedroom was absolutely dark, the black curtains blotting out even the stars and distant torches. Relying purely on memory to navigate, Thor “gently” dumped Loki on the bed, with the satisfying result of a muffled, expletive-laden string of insults, and left in search of light. 

He returned mere seconds later with a torch, only to drop it in shock at a bloodstained Loki standing in the middle of the room. Thor let out a flamboyant curse, snatched the torch from the floor, and stomped out the smouldering rug. Only then did he realize that Loki was still sitting on the bed, with the female doppelganger of his whose identity Thor was beginning to suspect grinning eerily in the middle of the room. 

“Uh, hello. I’m Thor. That’s Loki, probably who you’re looking for, or  _ Loki _ ng for...” That earned him an eye roll from Loki and a silent nod from the woman. “Wait- can you speak?” She shook her head. “Okay, well. I take it you’re my sister, then? Loki’s mother?” 

He tried putting a hand on her shoulder, but it went straight through. “Oh, sorry. Wait- is that what you say when you go  _ through _ someone? I don’t know, I’ve never met someone like that before-” 

“Thor.” 

At Loki’s usual admonishment, Thor, unusually, silenced. The woman turned towards Loki and spoke to him, or so Thor assumed. He could hear none of her words, only Loki’s responses. 

“Yes.” “Fine, sort of.” “I’ll work on it, I promise.” “Well, I love her.” “Good. He deserves everything they can give him.” “Can you stay?” “I know, but I have so many questions.” “Well, perhaps not.” “Likewise.” 

The woman vanished in a burst of gold and Loki lay back on the bed, tears still visible in the flickering torchlight. Thor lit a few of the torches around the room, illuminating it in a soft yellow. Task completed, Thor lay next to Loki and placed an arm over him like they were children fighting nightmares again. 

In a flash, the second half of the exchange between mother and son came to him, or else he imagined it near enough to be true. 

“Can you hear me?” “Are you well?” “You shouldn’t want to die, you know.” “Frigga’s safe with me. She sends her love.” “The  _ other _ one is being sufficiently punished. You don’t need to worry about him.” “I’ll return when I can.” “This needs to heal. I can draw energy from Helheim’s core.” “Would any answers actually help you?” “Stay safe.” 

Loki’s sobs shook them both. Neither slept or spoke for the rest of that night. 

X 

“Odin.” 

The face before him looked like no one so much as Bor, but that couldn’t be. Bor had made it into Valhalla; he’d checked. The face of authority, then, worn by whomever it was dared to pass judgement. 

“You have sinned.” 

There was no arguing with that. 

“Well. What’s it to be, then?” 

“For countless centuries, your daughter, who did nothing wrong but what you asked of her, has felt the pain of every wrongful death the Nine Realms have experienced. You will now take that pain from her.” 

Was that- he hadn’t  _ meant _ to condemn her to anything of the sort, only to be rid of a troubled and dangerous soul. And yet, he hand’t made any effort to seek a good outcome for her, even dead. Perhaps he deserved no better. How bad could it be? 

Moments later, writhing in the agony of a child beaten to death by her own father, he regretted asking. In fact, he regretted every single day of his ill-lived life. 

X 

Wednesday is the day of Odin in the role of the psychopomp, guiding the dead to their final rest. There will always be more, every moment of every hour. He will never find his own rest, until such time as the powers that forgive the sinners of the universe see fit to allow him to do so. But that is beyond our story. Little wonder that Wednesday’s child is full of woe. 


	3. Tuesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I have written this all by hand and just need to type it into the computer.   
> My kitty: Great! Congratulations! I will sit on your notebook to help you!   
> Me: No, please don’t. Just sit somewhere next to me and I’ll pet you and tell you you’re cute often enough.   
> My kitty: No, no, I must sit on the paper...   
> Me: *rips hair out* 

The call for help awoke everyone in the Nine Realms all at once. No images, no names, no words, just yellow light and sheer, unadulterated terror. 

By nightfall, ambassadors from seven worlds had converged on Asgard to address the problem. Quickly enough, they noticed that no one from Midgard had even  _ asked _ to show up. They were aware of Asgard’s protection; Loki had visited them to establish contact once he’d finally recovered. He even had a few friends there. 

Svartalfheim was likewise absent, but that was unsurprising. Some three years previously, the Dark Elves had come across the Aether, made their world habitable, then disappeared just as quickly. It was unlikely they would ask for help even if they did need it dearly. Whatever they were up to, it wasn’t an inarticulate scream for help. 

X 

“So, Midgard.” 

In the years since the incident, Loki had gradually come back out of his shell. Even so, surrounded as they were by beings from every Realm -well,  _ nearly _ every- it was a bit overwhelming. 

Fortunately, those from Jotunheim did not include Laufey -recently dead under “unspecified” circumstances- or the current king, Helbindi. The latter’s younger brother, Byleister, served as ambassador for the Jotun contingent, and Loki had to admit did well. No demands for the Casket, not even a mention, and although he must have known the story of the reject bastard child, he either failed to make the connection to Loki or just ignored it. There were, as they say, bigger fish in the sea. Still, points for diplomacy. 

Quickly enough they reached the collective and obvious conclusion that a contingent would be sent to Midgard to assist with... Well, step one would have to be “Figure out what on the Nine was going on.” 

Thor appointed himself to remain behind in case it was all just a ploy to draw the fighting forces away from Asgard et al. In a way, Loki was proud of how shrewd his favorite brother had become, yet there was still a twinge of nostalgia for the days of simplicity, of Thor being a witless oaf and needing rescue by someone with intelligence. But the days of childhood innocence, of leaving the problems for the adults to handle, were long gone, for the better. No more waiting around helplessly for someone to save them from terrors that their  _ mind _ s could not understand. 

They’d traded a world that made no sense for a world that needed them, badly. 

X 

The Bifrost deposited the entire army into a field that Heimdall said contained a massive battle, but Loki could find no sign of it. No soldiers running around trying to kill each other, not even a blade of grass stirring in the breeze, not that there was a breeze. No cent of blood, or of freshly-turned dirt, or of fear. No sounds of weapons being drawn or fired or smashed on a foe. No shockwaves of collisions through the air. No alarms from his seidr alerting him to danger, or harm. Just the taste of adrenaline, strengthening every second with nothing to burn it away. 

Surrounded by soldiers, with no sign whatsoever of so much as a heated discussion, Loki had never felt in more danger in his entire life. Even lying on a frozen altar at he mercy of his two so-called “fathers” hadn’t been this bad. Only one tiny life had been on the line, instead of the thousands he’d brought. Responsibility begat terror. 

Terror that took on a whole new dimension when Loki stepped forward only to be hit in the face by a simple, mundane, green-tinged raindrop. He swiped at it with his hand and flung it away without even knowing why- 

As soon as it left his skin, it froze- 

No, not  _ froze _ , not ice, although all things considered that would have made far more sense. It simply ceased to move, or change shape, hanging in midair trailing droplets exactly the way it had left his skin. It was as if- 

Loki had given it a distance per second, wind a force per second, gravity an acceleration per second squared. But of course, if there were no seconds, if  _ time _ had stopped- 

The instant Loki reached that conclusion, everything began to move again. 

X 

“Sire?” 

That was Byleistr. 

“Just call me Loki.” 

He turned to look at his semi-brother, and found himself facing Thor instead. “What? How are you here-” 

The ground rippled beneath him, and he somersaulted into it. When he resurfaced, swimming as if the earth that gave Midgard its native name had morphed into the water that covered most of its surface. 

Loki wasn’t breathing, didn’t even need to. Had he died that quickly and not even realized? 

Then the effect passed, and Loki was left waist-deep in solid dirt. He began trying to dig himself out - _ but have you ever tried digging with just your hands, because it’s not easy _ \- before the shaking resumed. Loki assumed whatever it was had returned, but no, that shaking was the footfalls of a bilgesnipe heading straight for him. 

Not the first time. 

Then it  _ rippled _ , shuffling itself like a deck of cards, and it was the beast that had chased him in his long-forgotten nightmares of the land of the ice and snow. 

By now, Loki had nearly managed to un-Midgard himself and tried to check on the soldiers who he could have sworn were standing around here somewhere... 

The beast crashed into him with more force than he’d expected, but now it had been shuffled like the powers that decided that sort of thing had plucked a new form out of a hat. Grey armored skin, two horns on its nose. Must be Midgardian. 

As the beast blundered off into the distance, Loki started digging again before lashing out with frustrated seidr  _ just let me out _ and the dirt was water. Blue water, tinged with red he somehow knew wasn’t blood. He willed himself  _ upward _ to land on a nearby rock. At least that worked. This would probably turn out to be nothing but a terrible dream, forgotten immediately upon awakening. 

In  _ reality _ , 

X 

Some terrified Vanir shrieked horribly as he flew through the air. The impact with the ground blasted  _ purple _ across the land. 

Obviously, the screaming stopped. 

Scattered around the field, a few remaining soldiers shouted to each other, to him, but the words, whatever they were, vanished in the rumble of distant explosions. 

Loki turned to look around, and his leather boot brushed against a patch of lichen.  _ Purple _ shot through him, sending him spinning to the ground. The effect duplicated far more intensely, sending him airborne again. 

Beginning to understand what the problem was, Loki caught sight of the water which was, miraculously, still water. One thing on this planet was still as it shouldn’t actually be, but who was he to complain? He made a flying, ungraceful leap back in, and the  _ purple _ assault ceased. Now with time to breathe, Loki shouted at the others to stay still, but they obviously already knew. That was good, but it still didn’t answer the question of  _ What on the Nine is wrong with Midgard? _ . 

Experimentally, Loki tapped a finger on a green leaf, a long-dead stick, bare dirt, and clean stone. Only the last failed to react. 

I want you to think for a moment about life. Biological life, in all its complexity, its many shapes and sizes. 

What’s the longest you can go without touching something organic? Your clothing, your family and friends, your pets, the food you eat, the wood or cloth on which you stand, sit, lie, what have you. The bacteria in your gut. A mosquito sucking your blood. Microbes in your water bottle. Look around the room you’re in. How much of the surface area was once alive? 

If your life depended on avoiding contact with organic matter, how long would you last? 

Whatever force worked its way on this corner of the universe, it certainly needed to be reckoned with. 

Shaking off the fear and the water -the only sterile place he’d found- Loki whispered a quick spell and took flight, feathers sprouting in place of clothing as the raven took over. Four soldiers stood absolutely still below, one Einerjar balanced precariously on one leg on a rock, Byleistr safe on a sheet of ice - _ why didn’t I think of that? _ \- and two Light Elves struggling to stay apart on an old campfire, too scorched to support life. 

No one else. That wasn’t a good sign. 

Finally achieving some stability, Loki sought the source of all the commotion. It was easy enough to spot;  _ purple _ shockwaves rippled out from it like waves on a pond. But what  _ was _ it? 

Loki perched on a small rock and surveyed his enemy. A heavyset Aeseroid wearing a gold gauntlet and skin as purple as the  _ power _

X 

Two left, then. All six of the Infinity Stones shone in the gauntlet. It was obvious, now, that each one had been throwing its weight around in an attempt to... 

Less obvious, now. 

Which one was next? The  _ blue _ , or the  _ orange _ ? Every time he figured out which Stone was being wielded, it stopped. So if he knew which one to name, he could shut down whatever nefarious scheme was being enacted. But what if he got it wrong? 

Infinity Stones notoriously corrupted any attempt to use them. Akin to the genies in the old tiles: be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. 

Which one, though? Nothing obvious was occurring at the moment. Nothing in the Titan’s - _ that must be it, even though they were supposed to have gone extinct a Convergence ago _ \- body language even said he was attacking anyone. None of the Stones were glowing or otherwise making their presence known. 

What, then? Matter changing location and with it, creating energy rather than consuming it, which broke the laws of physics... Nope. Dead beings re-emerging from their respective afterlives violating the laws of God... ...was there even enough of a difference to know?... No, answer G. 

_ None of the above. _

X 

“Loki.” 

On command, Loki shifted back to his usual form and landed on the ground. Frigga had spoken, obviously. 

“Mother. And Other Mother, I assume.” 

No prizes for guessing which Stone was active now. He held off on thinking its name, though. He wanted a moment with his mothers before he switched off the Stone and they were gone again. Saving the universe could wait. 

Frigga and the other woman -he wished he’d learned her name- hugged him as before, but he didn’t respond likewise. 

“How do I know it’s you?  _ Everything _ has been weird today.” 

“When you were just learning how to throw daggers, you smashed one of my vases, stole a spellbook, and fixed it hoping I would never notice. I pretended I didn’t.” 

“ _ I _ know that story. If I dreamed you up, you would still know that.” 

“I love you.” 

“I know that, too.” 

Other-Mother put a hand on his cheek -solid enough, the callused hands of a warrior- and moved her mouth as if to speak. No sound came out, but Loki thought her lips might have said “Are you well?” 

“I’m fine, I promise.” 

That drew some relief from her, and Loki figured he’d interpreted correctly. 

“Are you two... Is it at least peaceful?” 

Frigga kissed him on the forehead. “We’re mostly fine. But-” 

Other-Mother undid her blouse just enough, and he noticed the edge of a wound.  _ His _ wound, the one that had killed him. Not bleeding, obviously; she was dead, but it must still hurt. She hadn’t healed the damage, she’d  _ taken _ it. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, and kissed her on the cheek. 

“Loki.” Frigga grabbed Loki’s cheeks and turned him to face her. “I know it’s hard, little one, and it’s about to be even worse, but you have to survive. I know there’s still that part of you that wants all the trouble to be over. But you have to hold on. No matter what.  _ Promise _ me you’ll hold on.” 

He gulped hard. Worse to come? What could possibly be worse- but no, don’t ask, or the universe will give you an answer you won’t like. Death might indeed be preferable. But this was his mother. He couldn’t deny her one final request. 

“I promise.” 

That was it, time to go. He would see them again, eventually. Sometimes he envied the mortals. They could live out their entire natural lifespans without watching whole nations live and die, rise and fall, all while Loki et al were practically frozen in time. Of course such a person could quite easily become weary of living. That weighed on him heavily as he gave his word. 

Then it was done, and it was time for two dead  _ soul _ s to return home. 

X 

One last Stone, and it was obvious this time.  _ So _ obvious, this and the last one. Had to be some sort of trick. Unless he was  _ meant _ to think that... 

The jungle under the dome had vanished, replaced by barren rock. Stars shone overhead, but none he recognized. No sun, no moon to be seen. Just cold, hard stone that touched some primal fear as if in another timeline he’d been here before, and suffered for it. 

Another “memory” surfaced, of finding his way back to Asgard on a mission to kill Odin around a gaping wound in his own chest. That was believable enough. 

Portals opened overhead, showing Asgard’s sun, Jotun snowflakes, the twin moons of Vanaheim, one crescent, one gibbous, and a few other he could not name. A quick count yielded nine, most likely one for each Realm. 

He let out a few choice curses. How had he missed the Convergence approaching? Something was wrong with- No, not  _ that _ word, just... the green stuff. All messed up and because it was exactly  _ that _ one, it reached backwards. Of course this assault on Yggdrasil had gone unnoticed. 

Shutting it down couldn’t be this simple, but he didn’t have a choice. All Nine Realms were at risk. Of course, he would probably get stranded on a barren rock, as he had once been meant to die, but that was a small price to pay for protecting everyone and everything he’d ever loved. Even dead, his mothers could be harmed by whatever this was. Thor would just have to deal with it. 

_ Space _

X 

_ Snap _

Something had gone wrong. 

Obviously. 

Everything on the Nine felt, tasted, smelled, looked, sounded, seidred so utterly  _ wrong _ . For one thing, he was back on Midgard, in that same field, with the last Titan in the universe. For another, the gauntlet on his hand looked like it had exploded, the Stones in it glittering oddly. 

Oh, that, and the fact that patches of vegetation all around were withering and dying. A Vanir soldier ran towards him, face full of terror and confusion, before falling to the ground in a cloud of dust. Loki grabbed a handful, dust or ash he couldn’t tell.  _ What in the name of all that used to be good and beautiful did _ \- 

“Thank you.” 

Behind him, the Titan finally spoke, and he turned to look. Disturbingly, he was staring straight at Loki. 

“You’re welcome.” Ever the diplomat, Loki gave a polite, sarcastic bow, before continuing. “For what?” 

“For all of your help. Your precious Realms would have held my  _ balancing _ to themselves, but you, child of three of them, you were able to...  _ unlock _ each Stone in its turn-” 

Loki rejected that idea. Tried to, at least, but he’d always been able to tell truth from lie, and he didn’t think that trick had failed him now. 

“What... did... you... do...” He could hardly breathe around the rising panic. 

The Titan smiled horribly. “I brought balance to an ungrateful universe. No more suffering, no more wars. No more... envy over a throne.” 

Loki went cold.  _ Thor _ \- 

He conjured a dagger in each hand and lunged at the Titan, slashing at every inch he could reach. That purple face absolutely infuriated him, and he wanted it smashed to bits. 

“I have killed for so much less.” 

As a matter of fact, nothing came to mind, but it didn’t matter. No one saw through his best lies. 

“All the same, thank you. You are  _ always _ so helpful.” 

For a split second, Loki caught an image of himself handing a blue cube to the same Titan. Then it vanished, and his daggers had plunged each into one glittering eye. He knew a burst of grim satisfaction as the body hit the ground with a dull thud. 

The gauntlet shuddered and disintegrated, each Stone vanishing in a burst of its respective color. At the last second, Loki’s brain kicked in and he snatched the last one, which was blue for space. 

The world around him vanished, or else  _ he _ did, in a shower of cerulean sparks. 

X 

Perhaps in another timeline, the Space Stone and Loki had been partners in crime, because when the world began to halfway make sense again, he found himself exactly where he’d wanted to be: Asgard’s throne room. Thor knelt over him, face full of concerned alarm. 

Loki tossed the Stone away and pulled his brother into a rough embrace, sobbing hysterically. Thor tried to wipe the tears away, whispering reassurances and confused questions. Loki couldn’t breathe enough to respond, but only tried to remember every sound, every touch, because it couldn’t possibly last. He would have gladly trapped himself in this moment, to be played over and over again for eternity... But he’d grabbed the wrong Stone for that. Shame. 

“Thor,” he finally gasped out, “I won’t forget you.” 

Thor stared at him in confusion before falling to dust in Loki’s arms. 

X 

The Infinity Stones were created before all else in the universe, each of them to protect and guide some element of it. They were never meant to be weapons, or even tools. Those who attempted to use them as such were often killed in the attempt. The few who survived, were used as an example of a very simple lesson: 

Don’t fancy yourself God when you’re not. 

Tuesday is the day of war. War is the tool of those who lack the mental strength to find a more elegant solution. Anyone with enough imagination could change the universe with just one Stone. Lacking imagination and therefore needing to use all six, Thanos stood no chance of fulfilling his plans in a way that would leave him satisfied. Tuesday’s child is full of grace, which is sorely needed in a war. 


	4. Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For SilverPointDespair, who correctly, if inadvertently, predicted this chapter.

Orange was everywhere, and a dead landscape he would have guessed was Hel. Shadowy figures here and there, and a quick look down at himself confirmed he looked much the same way. Must be how once-living creatures looked here. 

He must be dead, or somehow suspended from life. He had no pulse. His breath only came when he thought about it, and made no fog in the air that he thought had to be cold. No pain, no need to eat or drink, nothing like that. 

No sign of Loki. 

As if summoned by the thought, Thor flashed back to the last moment of life. Loki holding him, devastated, somehow already knowing what would happen. What  _ had _ happened, anyway? There was no battle, adding weight to the idea that this was Hel. Nothing glorious. But what? 

It hadn’t hurt, and some part of him was glad for that. But it  _ had _ hurt Loki. 

All at once, Thor felt torn violently, between wanting his little brother and knowing that Loki would be dead if he  _ were _ here. The selfish half of him wanted them to be together, wherever they were. But maybe Loki could have a life of his own, without Thor. 

Was there a way back from this? 

Reasoning that he would never get tired, and there was nothing to be gained by staying here and doing nothing, Thor picked a direction on a whim, and set off. 

X 

“Thor-” 

The voice was hoarse, as if first being used in centuries. He turned to face it, and once again had to take a moment to realize it wasn’t Loki speaking. 

“Sister.” 

She pointed to herself, struggling to speak. “Hela.” 

For being in a shadow world under a coral sky, she looked much better than the last time they’d met. The wound on her chest was healed, but still visible. Color had returned to her skin, more than just the flush from the sky’s light. And of course, the return of some speech. The damage she’d taken from her son was healing. 

He tried again to put a hand on her shoulder, hoping that wasn’t crossing some invisible line, and this time, she was solid. As solid as he, anyway. She clasped his hand, and they spent a long moment simply comforting each other. 

“As far as I know, Loki is alive. He’s got to be crushed losing me though, or am I thinking too highly of myself? Or thinking too little of Loki. Wait a second- did everybody here get disintegrated? Even you? You’re dead, right? How does that work?” 

“Half-  _ whole _ universe-” 

Hela choked on her own voice, obviously still having trouble. What she’d gotten out was chilling. Half of the  _ universe _ gone? How was that even possible? Could someone fix it? 

Half of someone, even. 

X 

He didn’t think he’d slept, certainly he’d had no dreams, but when he opened his eyes, Hela was gone. Shame. It had been nice to have someone to speak with. 

A few of the other shadows looked at him once or twice, but no one spoke, and it was no one he recognized, anyway. Maybe it only worked if it was a blood relative, or someone he’d once met? He’d checked what records hadn’t been purged; Hela had definitely been killed “during the battle” on Jotunheim. They must have known each other beforehand. He wished he knew exactly what had happened to her. 

This wasn’t what he’d wanted out of an afterlife. Valhalla ideally, to fight and feast and nothing else. Not unlike what he’d been doing as Crown Prince, what he’d naively imagined being King would be like. How stupid and unready he’d been. 

Loki had confessed, in the interim between his coronation and the battle, that he’d believed Thor incapable of handling the weight of Asgard’s throne. He’d even thought to interrupt the ceremony with a Jotun invasion just so Thor would hotheadedly try to launch a counterattack and prove himself unworthy. 

Thor privately believed that he would have found a better solution to a simple invasion, but he’d let Loki have his fantasy of superiority, as well as the idea that one sorcerer, even one skilled as Loki, could possibly bring Asgard’s enemies into the heart of the Vault. It was too well-guarded. 

_ Such confidence, from someone who was disintegrated along with half the universe and has not the foggiest clue as to what or who on the Nine could have happened. _

Well, there was always his characteristic naive hope. 

X 

Thunder crackled overhead, and it startled him. Thunder was  _ his _ job. This wasn’t his thunder, he couldn’t feel a thing. He couldn’t summon it anymore, not since- well, since he’d gotten exactly  _ here _ . 

The sky  _ ripped _ overhead, and a shape fell through. Well. Apparently, the population of this strange world had just increased by one. He hadn’t seen it do  _ that _ before, but who knew. There wasn’t exactly a visitor’s guide for wherever-this-was. 

The woman hit the ground hard, and the shockwave knocked everyone to the ground. He caught a glimpse of Hela again, kneeling over the huddled form, but then she vanished in a familiar burst of green-gold. 

After a while, the crowd dispersed, and only then did it occur to him to wonder why they’d gathered in the first place. Not unlike a nameday celebration. Here’s your baptism by fire. 

The woman lifted her head, and he thought at first it was Mother. Then he realized it was a sister of hers whose name he’d long forgotten. Come to think of it, he was ashamed of that. 

He tried to talk to her, but in another burst of orange, the world folded, and she disappeared. 

X 

The urge to travel was overwhelming, but travel where? There were mountains in the distance, but they never got any closer. Maybe the entire landscape was nothing but a dream. But if it wasn’t, if there was some sort of end to this place, Thor decided he would find it. 

Maybe he would find his own end first. 

X 

Setting off again across the orange landscape, Thor wondered how long it would take, and what day it was. Maybe today was Thursday. He would have liked that. It would have been  _ right _ . 

Thursday is the day named for himself. He’d been so proud of it as a child, declaring every week that the day was his own. He’d been so arrogant. Loki’s desire to cut him down a few dozen notches was, in retrospect, entirely justified. In every way, Thursday’s child has far to go. 


	5. Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Hope you are all staying safe and wearing masks! I have recently had a CT scan that confirmed my lungs are fine, so no idea why I was getting sick. Good news is, I haven’t been sick since April, so maybe it was just a fluke.   
> Warning: multiple character deaths, natural and otherwise. Proceed with caution.

Vanaheim’s twin moons kept asynchronous phases, and Loki could recall his mother telling him a story about them, but the details were lost somewhere in the intervening millennium. Two lovers, he thought, cursed to never see each other properly. Perhaps he could ask one of the locals. 

Frigga’s family came to mind. He’d sent a letter ahead, asking whoever was left of them to gather so he could meet them. They knew of her death already. He’d made sure of that shortly after Thor’s abrupt but understandable announcement that rule of Asgard would now be left to a council. It had taken a while to work out the kinks, but it meant that Loki, having inherited the now-partly ceremonial role of King, could leave the business to someone else. Freedom was good; it was a basic necessity. 

Had Odin gone mad from the pressures of the throne? The cycle had to be broken. 

Loki crested one last hill, and finally in the valley below lay his goal. A giant house, grown from living wood, blazed like a sun with candles in every window. Much like on Asgard, the shining gold was a facade. Half of the rooms were bound to be empty. 

The doors swung open as he neared, and a small crowd spilled out. Two he recognized, and after a moment, a third. 

Frigga’s mother, Fulla, looking like a much older version of the mother Loki was trying not to forget. Frigga’s younger sister, Gna, had once cared for him while he was ill, Odin was Sleeping, and with Thor still too young the throne had fallen to Frigga. He remembered her as a friend, but that was so long ago. 

Then there was Sigyn, Gna’s daughter. She’d come to visit a few times, back when they were children. They’d played hide-and-seek, he’d shown her a few magic tricks he’d just learned, she’d taught him archery. She’d changed so much since then, but that spark was still there. The one that on the few occasions he’d thought of her during adolescence had made him regret that they were related. After a moment, he remembered that wasn’t actually the case. For some reason ( _ come on, it’s not that hard to figure out _ ), that made him smile. 

The trio he knew, and five children he did not, greeted him with open arms. They ushered him inside, where they’d laid out a feast, of warm bread and roasted birds and fresh vegetables. He ate what he could of it, sipped a little of the traditional guest cup, and joined in the laughter at the resulting grimace. 

He tried to remember the names of the children, none of them old enough for weapons training were they Asgardian. Two young redheads who must have been twin sisters. An older boy who reminded him a little of Thor, dressed like a Vanir soldier and waving a toy sword. Another boy, carrying a stuffed bear and never speaking. The youngest, he thought a little girl, barely old enough to walk. 

Once the “feast” ended, the exhausted children were tucked into their beds, and the adults settled down for a proper conversation. He told them all he knew of Frigga’s death, they told him all they could of her life. He told them the truth of his Jotun blood, they told him the name of his birth mother: Hela. Unlike Thor, she’d been pure Asgardian. She’d been a skilled warrior, but she preferred the healing rooms to the battlefield, comforting the dying in their final moments. That much, he could admire. At least he had two mothers he could be proud of. 

They knew nothing of her “betrayal” to Laufey or her resulting death, or his own beginning. For that, he would need to visit Jotunheim, and he was not ready to take that step just yet. 

Sigyn explained that she and her sister had been teaching a group of children how to garden when out of nowhere, half of their flock vanished into dust. Her sister, Skadi, had been among the last, and Loki realized they had that much in common. In a perverse way, he was almost glad. It was one more thing to bring them together. 

He explained to them what he could of the battle, of the Infinity Stones, and they filled in a few gaps. The Power Stone had been abandoned on a long-dead planet called Morag, doubtless in an ultimately futile attempt to prevent it being used for some nefarious scheme. The Soul Stone had a legend about it, according to Fulla, but she refused to elaborate. Most likely, it was dangerous to have too many people knowing the details. 

Brusquely, she tidied the rest of the group off to bed, with a promise that they would discuss it more tomorrow. 

X 

Tomorrow brought with it more devastation. Fulla was found dead in her bed, having drifted away in her sleep. Loki was shocked -she’d seemed completely healthy the night before- but was soon informed by Gna that Vanir usually retained full health and mental faculties up until the moment of death. He found that much to envy. 

Gna also thought she may have been holding on only in hope of meeting her daughter’s beloved child. Loki was glad he’d given her that much. 

In the days that followed, Gna spoke little. Sigyn, Loki, and even the children tried to draw her out of her shell, but with little result. Contrasted with Asgardian funerals, the Vanir buried their dead and planted a tree to stand guard. Fulla’s was a young cherry, blossoming for the first time. He liked that. Maybe he would have that done, when the time came. 

Gna remained understandably withdrawn in the following days. With Sigyn occupied caring for her mother and preparing meals, it fell to Loki to mind the children. Lilja and Linnea, the twins, loved it when he read to them. The youngest, Kielo, wanted to be held and little else. Aster and his honorary brother Einros often played outside for hours on end, having adventures on the order of “You’ve been captured by [insert villain here] and I must rescue you.” 

Those were the golden days of his childhood. There used to be others, of saving Asgard itself from the Frost Giant monsters, but those had been irrevocably tainted by horror the color of the ashen dust that used to be Thor, by a certain violent revelation. 

They spoke sometimes of the dusting, of where those vanished could have possibly gone, how they might be brought back. Loki mentioned the Space Stone, locked away safely in Asgard’s vault, and made a humorless quip about “only five more”. At that, Gna went quiet again, and he quickly apologized before changing the subject. 

The next morning, the house was eerily silent. The children had yet to awaken, but there should have been the sounds of Gna preparing breakfast, of Sigyn tending the fires, maybe even the occasional patient seeking their assistance. Instead, there was only birdsong. 

Throwing on some clothing, Loki dashed around the house to check on everyone. The twins slept in their bed, quiet as they ever were. Aster dozed likewise, but Einros sat on the windowsill clutching his bear. Kielo stood up in her crib, arms outstretched. Never able to resist a baby’s charms, Loki lifted her gently and took her downstairs with him. 

The only sign of life was a note on the kitchen table. With a growing sense of alarm, Loki picked it up and read it. 

_ Dear Loki,  _

_ I’m sorry to leave without a goodbye, but you would have asked too many questions. I’ve brought Sigyn with me, but don’t worry; she will be safe, I promise.  _

_ Look after the children. I trust you with them. Consider that a compliment to your skills with them.  _

_ I will admit to some concern if a medical crisis strikes, but perhaps you could have a healer sent over from Asgard if the need arises.  _

_ I cannot tell you where we are going, but we should be back within the week. Good luck.  _

_ ~Gna _

Well then. 

A cacophony from upstairs told him the other children had arisen. Odds were good, they would each want a different, very specific breakfast. Loki had overnight gone from being King to being royally screwed. 

_ Can I go back to fighting Thanos now? _

X 

Sigyn had gone to sleep expecting a normal tomorrow, and woken up on a spaceship heading to Valhalla-only-knows-where. Gna refused to tell her. Had to be outside of the Nine Realms though, or they would have taken the Bifrost. 

Mundane interplanetary travel was unusual for the Vanir, but it was far more interesting to watch the stars go by. A purple gas cloud here, a hexagonal portal there - _ has to be a hexagon, because that tessellates the plane _ \- and eventually, there they were. 

A lifeless grey planet, mountains and a dusky sky. No signs of life. Wordlessly, Gna landed the ship and stormed out, leaving Sigyn to follow around a growing apprehension. 

“Mother, where are we? What are we doing?” 

Gna didn’t answer, only picked a specific mountain and began to climb it. Sigyn toyed with the idea of staying with the ship or, as the darker side of her suggested, just hopping in and setting of for back home. And yet, something in her told her to follow. Besides, it was something of an adventure, absent from her life since the children showed up. 

At least twice, the trail ended completely, leaving them to scramble up a sheer cliff. By the time they finally reached their apparent destination, Sigyn was painfully short on breath. Gna took full advantage, tackling her daughter to the ground and tying her down. Or up. 

She would have to tell Loki that one later. 

Then the fog of hypoxia cleared, and she thought to ask Gna what was going on. “Mother? Why are y-” 

Gna kissed her on the forehead. “I love you. When you’re done, just climb in the ship; it’ll take you home. And take care of everyone.” 

“Mother!” 

A red figure, robed in black, floated over the clifftop towards them. 

“Gna, daughter of Fulla. Sigyn, daughter of Gna. You have come in search of the Soul Stone. It comes with a price-” 

“I know that. I came prepared. Oh, and here.” 

She slipped a strange metal box into Sigyn’s coat pocket without another word. Terror shot through Sigyn. 

“Mother, you’re all I’ve got. Don’t leave me. I can’t-” 

“You have Loki, and the children. You’ll be fine.” 

Without another word, Gna flung herself over the edge of the cliff, and Sigyn could do nothing but watch, tears already streaming down her face. 

_ Orange  _ blasted across the landscape, knocking her to the ground. 

X 

When Sigyn awoke, she found herself lying in a small, dark lake. Something hard and small burned her hand as she sat up, coughing. Without even looking, she shoved it into the box. It shone  _ orange  _ as she closed the lid. 

Somehow, she’d ended up at the bottom of the mountain. Gna’s body had to be around here somewhere, but Sigyn knew without looking that she would never find it. 

Utterly and completely numb, she trudged back to the ship.  _ Take me home _ , she somehow ordered it, and it obliged, sealing itself off and leaving behind the planet of death. 

Except it wasn’t home anymore. 

X 

“Hello? Gna? Are you around here somewhere?” 

Loki suppressed the urge to let out a string of biologically and anatomically unfeasible suggestions and went to check the door. One look, and all of the humor and irritation vanished like there’d been another Snap. 

The woman in front of him, brown-haired and green-eyed, clutched at her extremely swollen belly with both arms. Below that, her skirt was soaked with what looked like half-diluted blood. Drawing on a millennium of tagging along with Frigga, assisting with that sort of thing, Loki concluded she was about to give birth. 

“Come in. Gna and Sigyn aren’t here, but I’ll do what I can.” 

The woman, who later gave her name as Astrid, did not seem particularly satisfied with him of all people as a midwife, but there really weren’t any other options. He put Kielo down for a nap with a quick charm and sent the others to play outside. 

Astrid settled into a bed in one of the empty bedrooms and undressed. Loki fetched some towels, a clean kitchen knife, and a bucket of water, trying to avoid thinking about seeing far more than he would have liked of a complete stranger. 

He laid a blanket over her for what modesty he could give her, and she seemed grateful although she couldn’t speak through a violent contraction. Bracing himself, he gritted his teeth and examined her, hoping this wouldn’t last long. His blood ran cold. 

Already, a tiny foot could be seen through a mess of fluids. Breech, then. Risky, but manageable. Loki seized a towel and made to catch the newborn as another contraction pushed both legs out completely. He glanced up at Astrid. 

“It’s a little girl.” 

Astrid tried to sit up, but fell back. “Is she okay?” 

“Backwards. Just keep like you’ve been doing. It won’t be long.” 

He could taste the lie, or lie of implication, but Astrid had no idea. Under the mess, the baby’s skin had swollen and become discolored. He flicked her feet a few times, but she gave no response whatsoever. 

She couldn’t, he realized. She’d been dead for a while. He wrapped her in the towel as she came away completely, revealing the problem. Her umbilical cord had coiled around her chest and twice around her neck, so tight it was cutting through her skin. He cut it loose, untangled everything, and went through the motions of trying to revive her, but to little purpose. 

The placenta put in its appearance, accompanied by Astrid’s quiet sobs, before he finally had to admit defeat. He cleaned the little one gently, just to make her presentable, before at Astrid’s request placing the tiny bundle in her arms. 

No one spoke. No words would have eased their mutual and utter devastation. 

X 

The sun had just dropped below the horizon when Sigyn finally arrived at her home, although she took one look at it and knew instantly that it could never be that again. Outside, next to Fulla’s tree, Loki, the children, and a woman she didn’t recognize stood solemnly around another, much smaller tree, this one too young for blossoms. 

What was left of Sigyn’s broken heart sank. She stood at a distance, not wanting to intrude, until Loki saw her and waved her over. At the concern on Loki’s face, she blurted out, “Mother’s dead.” 

With an air of “I see that, and raise you-”, Loki dully replied, “Astrid’s daughter was stillborn.” 

They said nothing at all after that. Equal and opposite condolences would have been so much meaningless noise. 

X 

In the following days, Astrid told them her story. She’d been happily raising three sons while her husband farmed. On one particular day, all four of them vanished into piles of dust. She’d tried to kill herself twice before realizing she was pregnant with the child she’d named Hope.    
  
Now, of course, she had nothing. 

Sigyn had the grace to offer Astrid a place to stay, instead of going back to an empty home surrounded by ghosts. She even framed it as a request for help caring for the children, allowing Astrid to have a purpose rather than feeling like a charity case. 

Sigyn would make an excellent queen, part of him whispered, and a wonderful mother. He was finding less and less of a reason to resist. 

X 

Astrid bonded quickly with Kielo, who promptly began to speak by calling her “Amma”. The boys followed suit, but Lilja and Linnea insisted on playing only with Loki and sometimes Sigyn. Before long, he lacked the heart to discourage them. 

Weeks passed with no concerns other than the garden, the children, the quit moments when Loki and Sigyn stole out to the lake, or the tiny clifftop in the forest. He would have liked to stay there forever. 

The knock on the door sounded a death knell for the halcyon days on Vanaheim. It came from a messenger sent by Asgard’s ruling council, politely requesting he return. Of course, that was understandable. He was, still, the King. No one else in the Nine Realms would he trust with that burden. 

X 

“Who was that man earlier?” 

Sigyn hated to broach a topic she knew would upset Loki, but it had to be done. The two had packed a picnic lunch and were lounging on a beach, watching the girls swim. Loki sighed. 

“I have to go back to Asgard. Back to the throne and all the responsibilities that it requires. I’d better leave tomorrow.” 

Well. This had to happen sooner or later. Summer love couldn’t last forever. What she said next was supposed to be the right thing, but it darn hurt. 

“We’ll be fine, you know. You don’t need to worry about us.” 

“Actually-” Loki took her hand and spun to face her, suddenly awkward, then burst out, “Come with me.” At the look on her face, he pressed on. “We can bring the twins if you like. The others will be fine with Astrid.” 

Sigyn considered it for a moment. The house- full of ghosts of the dead and the gone. The garden- the surrounding villagers would care for and harvest it. The box Loki had instantly identified as containing the Soul Stone- it would go to Asgard anyway. There was nowhere good to store it, so they’d been keeping it with them at all times. 

To go with Loki, to build a life with him, be his Queen, have a family of her own... 

She thought for a moment of Frulla, of Gna, but they were gone and not coming back. This was her life now, and her former home. She could do with them what she wished. And  _ what _ she wished... 

She rolled to her feet, hand still in Loki’s. 

“Say it.” 

“Marry me?” 

X 

The moons are both full this night, and Loki hopes it is a sign. He pictures taking Sigyn back to Asgard with him, teaching her the wonders of his home. The girls will come, too, and become theirs in full. 

Monday is the day of the moon, and in that light, his new companion glows like a werelight, guiding him to a new future. Fair of face is Monday’s child. 


	6. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Odin being a complete and unredeemed narcissist of a husband and father, as well as just a [insert expletive]. Read with care. 

“Hello, Thor.” 

Frigga put a finger on her newborn son’s cheek, which made him open his eyes for the first time. Unless he’d opened them in the womb. Did they do that? Like opening your eyes while underwater... 

Entranced as she was by her baby’s face, she didn’t even notice the door opening, or Odin slipping inside. She unwrapped the blanket, and began examining his hands, his feet, and all else. Such strong hands, destined to carry and wield swords, or spears, or- 

One of the healers slammed a cloth into her face, and the room spun to blackness around her. 

X 

Frigga slumped back into her bed, and Odin lifted his baby from her arms. 

“My son.” 

Eir smiled at him. “A strong and healthy son, my King. All is well.” 

He smirked at his unconscious Queen and nodded at the healers. “You know what to do.” 

He left the healers to their task and carried the baby out to show off to the adoring crowds. 

No one questioned Frigga’s absence. Why would they? She’d just given birth. The newest member of the royal family was cause for celebration and nothing else. 

X 

Frigga woke up in a sterile white room. Nothing particularly unlike where she’d gone to sleep, except for the lack of windows. Why had she been moved while she slept? Where were Odin and Tho- 

Sitting up was a mistake. Pain shot through her entire lower body. A quick check revealed sutures running up her belly. A push of Seidr told her that underneath, she now lacked a womb. What- had she hemorrhaged so badly and not noticed? How much had she missed? 

A young healer slipped in with a tray of food, all smiles. “All-Mother! Glad to see you awake. We’re all thrilled with the new prince.” 

She set the tray on Frigga’s bedside table, but the sight of it made her stomach churn as if she were again newly pregnant. 

Never again. 

She and Gna had been best friends growing up, and their three brothers had volunteered to go to war only ever together. They were dead now, in one battle, and buried where they’d fallen. Two experiences Thor would now never know. 

“What did you do to me?” 

The healer seemed genuinely confused. “My Queen?” 

Frigga gestured to her incision. 

“I don’t know anything about that. You’d have to ask Eir.” She said all this very fast and left the room like Ragnarok was impending. 

Too sore to move, Frigga could do nothing but sleep. 

X 

What woke her next was Thor’s newborn babble. She sat up gingerly and held out her arms for her child before even realizing Odin was holding him. He backed away as she reached out, dangling Thor out of her reach like a cat toy. 

“Odin, let me hold him. Please.” 

Odin was unmoved. “We need to talk. After that, you can hold him if you like.” 

With no real choice, Frigga nodded. “Okay.” 

“I had two younger brothers. They proved...  _ troublesome _ when it was time for me to take the throne. I have prevented a second occurrence.” 

Frigga shuddered without meaning to. That was cold. That was really cold. Thor would likely end up having no idea how to handle having an equal,  _ because siblings are the only equals one ever gets _ , no one to tell him he did something not-quite-wrong-but-not-right-either- 

“What is wrong with you?” 

Odin’s voice was harsh, and she realized for the first time that she was actually afraid of her “husband”. “You have a problem with Thor, is that it? Is he not good enough for you?” 

She shook her head violently, unable to get a word in edgewise as Odin continued his tirade. Finally, he threw the baby at her, and she clutched him for dear life. Her own life, more than his. Odin would have no need of her if anything were to happen to the baby. 

Naturally, he’d made it far more certain that his precious heir would live to grow up. And of course, she couldn’t leave him now. Thor bound them together, and the thought made her want to strangle him. Of course, no other man would want her now. 

A part of her couldn’t really argue with that logic. 

X 

Hela lay curled up on the ice. The cover of chaotic battle should have been the perfect chance to escape. No one was actually watching the prison cells. Were she so gifted, she could have spelled open the door,  _ all _ of the doors, and escaped in the ensuing chaos. 

She’d never had a knack for seidr. 

The door burst open of its own accord, and she recognized Laufey’s step.  _ Why is he here now? _ He’d come often enough in the early days, to- 

“Get up.” 

The rest of what he said was probably native Jotun for every derogatory female term under a cold sun. No matter. She’d heard it all before. At least he hadn’t done  _ that _ since he noticed she was carrying “his” child.  _ No, mine. Only mine. _

Two guards followed, and she tried to get to her feet, arms around her child. There was no point in trying to hide it; her swollen belly was the only part of her that hadn’t been starved away to near-skeletal. 

Laufey slammed his staff into her back, knocking her to the ground. “None of that now.” 

At a command from their king, the guards flipped her onto her back and pinned her down. Laufey smirked at her and began ripping away at her clothing. Realzing what he was after, but absolutely helpless to fight back, Hela couldn’t help but blurt out, “Just let us go. It’s diplomatic. Odin will be grateful-” The guard slammed a hand over her mouth, silencing her as Laufey pulled out a stone knife and began  _ carving _ \- 

Pain blazed through her, but all-consuming as it was, it paled next to the sheer horror of the damage Laufey was doing to her, to her baby. The wound would perhaps heal, if it were tended to, but it would definitely scar. Anyone who ever saw that much of her would know easily what had been done to her. 

Hela had never thought much of having a family of her own, at least until recently, but Odin would be displeased if she were no longer  _ useful _ . She’d been less of the executioner of late, and if she couldn’t be traded as someone’s wife, which was highly unlikely now, she was more apt to find herself on the receiving end of the axe. 

And of course... 

The baby  _ squelched _ out of her and Laufey absurdly thanked her and kissed her on the lips before departing with the silent newborn dangling from one hand. 

X 

“Oh my goodness.” 

The kindness of the voice shocked Hela, but no more than the fact that it came from a  _ female  _ Jotun. She hadn’t seen one of those before. Some Aesir even speculated that there were no females of that species, and that new ones just grew like icicles fully matured. To be fair, that  _ would _ explain how there had always been more of them flooding Midgard for her to kill, reanimate, command to turn on each other... Of course, that couldn’t be the whole story, or there wouldn’t be a tiny hybrid creature out there somewhere- 

“My baby.” 

The Jotun woman put a surprisingly comforting hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know where your baby is. But let me fix you up first.” 

Hela wanted to protest, but knew she couldn’t help her baby if she couldn’t even walk. Besides, she realized grimly, if Laufey had decided to kill the little one, it was already too late. 

“Okay. Go ahead.” 

“My name is Sagaoya.” 

Hela grimaced. “Hela.” 

Sagaoya worked quickly, sewing and adjusting. Hela couldn’t look. Eventually: 

“Why are you helping me? I’m the enemy.” 

The Jotun shook her head. “War is the enemy. I fight back with decency.” 

“Odin and the Einerjar will be here soon. They’ll probably kill you just for showing up big and blue.” Hela pulled at her chains experimentally, but they were as strong as ever. Stymied, she turned to her unexpected ally. “Just run. I’ll be fine.” 

Sagaoya hesitated, then whispered “Good luck” before sprinting out of the prison like it was on fire. Hela never did see her again. 

Come to think of it, on a day like this, ice burning wouldn’t be all that weird. Everything was off-kilter. 

Alone again and still in pain, Hela could do nothing but wait and hope she would be found. 

X 

Somewhere between a split second and eternity later, the door burst open to reveal Odin. They hadn’t seen each other in at least a year, and some part of her that she resented but couldn’t quite squash was actually glad to see him. She rolled upright, grimacing in pain but still plastering on her best (read: terrifying) friendly smile. 

“Hello, Father.” 

Odin wordlessly lifted her torn blouse to reveal her wound. He must have known what it was, but gave no outward reaction. A few quick blows from Gungnir shattered her chains, finally freeing her. She quietly thanked him and got to her feet with difficulty. Roughly, he shoved a bundle at her before storming out of the prison. 

To her shock and joy, he’d brought her the baby, wrapped in a spare blanket. Questions swarmed through her mind, but she followed Odin blindly, without even looking at her ill-conceived offspring. It was warm through the rough blanket, and she felt it stir a few times as she struggled to keep up with her father, exhausted from her long captivity and pregnancy. 

She shoved a hand into the blanket, feeling around.  _ Good, strong life force, no hair yet, a couple raised lines like Laufey had that fade at a touch... Ah, you’re a little boy. _ Small fingers wrapped around her own.  _ Hi there. _

She stumbled up to the Bifrost site just in time to be whisked away in a burst of rainbow light. 

X 

Heimdall’s strong arms steadying her were the first sign that she’d arrived back home. 

_ Home. _

Such a simple word for it. Asgard was the only place in the universe she would ever call her own until the day she left for Valhalla or Hel. 

Odin left the observatory with a gesture to follow. Hela caught Heimdall’s eye. 

“How much does he know?” 

“All of it, or near enough. Laufey left the little one in the temple, just for one last insult. I-” He flicked his eyes to the child, and Hela drew him close to herself. “I am bound to obey my king.” 

Unable to respond, Hela left to follow Odin. 

Despite her questions and protests that she needed a healer, his steps led without hesitation to the edge of the sea. Far out past the breaking waves, Jorgamundr shifted ominously. 

“Why are we here? I’ve done  _ nothing _ -” 

“You let them take you alive. You remained alive long enough to give our mortal enemy a child-” 

“I didn’t  _ give _ him anything. He did it to me, took the child from me. Why don’t you go back and kill him if it bothers you so much?” 

“He has his uses.” 

_ But  _ I _ don’t, not anymore. The baby certainly doesn’t except perhaps as a hostage, but Laufey already rejected him once and has other children. So does Odin. He’s probably disappointed that I survived. _

“Why did you even bother saving us?” He could have left her and the baby, or killed them outright, but... too much a coward. He only ever killed under the justification of battle. Jorgamundr’s very existence testified to that. 

Odin clasped her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. Only now did she realize he’d lost one of them in the battle. If she held a weapon in her hands instead of a child, or hadn’t just been  _ carved  _ open to birth said child, she could have killed him then and there. As it was, she barely had the strength to stand. 

“I wanted my daughter back. I  _ still _ do. Is that so bad? But I need to be able to trust her. Just get rid of it, and you can forget it ever happened. We’ll get the healers to fix you up properly, and you can meet Thor. We’ll be a family again.” 

Some family they were. A palace built on skeletons could never stand. Frigga had been visibly pregnant when the army left for Midgard and Jotunheim, and some small part of her had actually been glad of it. It would be nice to help raise a younger sibling. But never  _ instead of _ her own. 

For the first time, she actually took a good luck at the newborn. Pale blue eyes stared back at her out of the same warm, sallow shade of skin as her own. She showed him to Odin. 

“Looks Aesir to me. Call him yours. People will believe you.” 

At that, Odin slapped her across the face, knocking her to the ground. “If you can’t take a life when Asgard asks it of you, you don’t belong here.” 

_ Not Asgard,  _ you _ ’re asking it of me. What is Asgard, if not its most innocent occupant? _ An all-too-familiar clenching hit her stomach, and she recognized the touch of approaching death. She doubled over and tried to vomit, but her empty stomach yielded nothing but pain. Couldn’t be Odin, unfortunately. But the baby... 

Lacking any real alternative, Hela nodded reluctantly. “Just... Give me a minute?” 

Odin shrugged carelessly and backed off a few paces. It made no difference. She’d never make it out of here with her baby, and there really wasn’t anywhere to go. It may have even been kinder to do what Odin wished. What sort of a life was it, not part of either species, rejected by both, growing up with  _ Odin _ of all people as a father? 

The baby let out a gurgle, and she put him to her breast. Incredibly, he smiled around the milk and held out a hand with the thumb up. Love flooded through her, or else the usual mothering hormones sending milk to her breasts and squeezing her womb back into place. Then again, what was the difference? What were anyone’s actions or desires but the sum of biology and history? Only a lifetime of putting on a diplomatic facade of equilibrium kept her from breaking down completely. 

Quickly enough, he closed his eyes to sleep, and she was glad. She kissed him on his forehead with a soft apology. Rolling to her feet, she trudged down the beach toward the river delta. The current would carry him out to Jorgamundr, and that would be it. 

The thought that maybe it was just a test of loyalty, that she didn’t have to actually do it, crossed her mind, and she glanced over her shoulder at Odin. He gave no indication of stopping her. 

As she crouched near the water, it occurred to her to wonder if Jorgamundr would even trouble with her scrap of a newborn. Not even a snack for him. 

Then it clicked. 

He  _ wouldn’t _ , if he had more fitting prey, an actual traitor, or someone held to be one. Life on Asgard was to her a fate worse than death, but the baby likely disagreed. He  _ deserved _ to live. Inevitable death had come by now so,  _ so  _ close, but it didn’t have to be  _ his _ . 

Resolved, she took one last look at her son -now beginning to cry, as if he knew his mother would be leaving him- and laid him on the sand before diving headlong into the water. 

Behind her, Odin let out a frustrated expletive, and she threw a crude gesture over her shoulder. More spirit than she felt. The water was freezing, even after months on Jotunheim, and felt like a brand against her unhealed wound. At least she didn’t need to  _ do _ anything, just let the current take her. Already, the land was out of her reach. The baby’s wails pulled her back, but she ignored them and the tears on her own cheeks. He would have to manage on his own. Odin lacked the nerve to take a life outright. That had been  _ her _ job. 

No more. She was free now. 

Jorgamundr greeted her as a friend, a kindred spirit, in another world perhaps her brother. The two were hosts for death. 

As he claimed her, her only regret was never seeing her child again. 

X 

The traitor vanished into the jaws of the serpent, and Odin forced himself to squash a burst of regret. She’d had her uses, after a millennium of training. He’d been proud of her, in a way. Still, she’d learned to fight back. She’d become a liability. Better she had died on Jotunheim, but that was remedied now. 

The warspawn child protested its mother’s death -it must know, somehow- and Odin made to cast it into the water, but changed his mind. It might prove useful with Thor one day. 

His child would grow up in a peaceful world, there was no avoiding that. Down to one eye, Odin could no longer fight, or send his prized executioner to enact his will. Loyalty would have to be proved much closer to home now. 

He would never forget his own test, when he’d come of age. Bor had tasked him with squashing a rebellion on Vanaheim, led by his older brother, Veli. Odin had attacked with fervor, eager to earn a throne. Veli’s face when Odin ran him through... 

Only after Bor’s  _ untimely _ death some years later did he realize Veli had never actually betrayed them. He’d just been the spare, judged less apt to ruling. The last part of him that regretted his brother’s death died with Hela. 

Well. He’d make a use of the traitor’s child yet. 

Tucking it under one arm with a hand over its mouth -finally, some peace and quiet after an entire war- he set off for the palace. 

X 

The shift in Asgard’s core magic could be felt throughout the Realm by anyone attuned to it. Few would make note of it, and fewer -in fact, only one- possessed both inclination and ability to trace it to its source. Therefore, as she quickly realized, Frigga was most likely the only person in Asgard to immediately notice Hela’s death. 

Except she  _ wasn’t _ the only one. 

She followed the magic back to its source, and from that to the newborn child in her husbands arm a split second before the door to her chambers burst open. She flinched, glancing toward Thor’s playpen. The toddler had been happily napping, but at the sound of the door, he began to fuss again. 

Odin shoved the child into her arms, and she caught him out of nothing but reflex. “There you go. You wanted another one, you’ve got one. Keep it alive; we’ll use it to test Thor once he’s ready for the throne.” 

“Odin-” 

He cut her off, snatching her hair and dragging her face to meet his. “You are my Queen.  _ Mine. _ You will do what  _ I _ wish, no one else.” 

Shaken badly even after everything he’d ever done to her, she could only nod and murmur the appropriate agreements. The baby nonetheless fussed as Odin’s fury abated as quickly as it had begun. Or  _ withdrew _ , rather, as a turtle to its shell, ready to emerge and lash out again at any moment. 

Before he left the room, he muttered, as if an apology, “If it dies, I won’t hold it against you.” 

Then at last he was gone, and Frigga could finally breathe again. She stood on shaking feet and locked the door. Both children were openly wailing now, and some part of her felt inclined to join them. Hela was dead, Thor destined for life with a terrible father, no sister to protect him, and a brother he would one day be made to  _ execute _ , that self-same brother destined for honorless death at the hands of his closest friend... 

After a long time of anguish, Frigga began to order her runaway emotions and put her thoughts to rights. It would be a millennium or more before that hrorible day, and any number of  _ disruptions  _ could interfere between then and now. For today, the children needed baths, food, and meaningful company. 

She turned to the new one as his seidr reached out to hers.  _ Hello, Amma. _ At his infant voice, she stiffened in alarm, but allowed him to grasp her finger. 

_ My name is Loki. _

X 

Loki gulped down a drink with unsteady hands. If he was shaking this badly now, he doubted he would be in any shape to hold his newborn child once it actually deigned to make the grand entrance. Exit. Either one, once he thought about it. 

Asgardian tradition dictated massive crowds congregating to feast and celebrate each new birth. Countless women surrounded Sigyn cheering her on, although he’d given strict orders that anyone who caused her distress would be removed, and he was to be called immediately should anything go wrong. 

For now, he was happily drinking with the other men, watching the twins he considered his daughters play in Frigga’s garden with a crowd of other children. The next generation was alive and well. Something about that felt so  _ right _ , one last dig at Thanos and his idea that there were too many people. How long would it be before the universe was back to its previous numbers? 

Of course, that hadn’t fixed it. He wanted Thor here, constantly shoving extra drinks into his hands insisting that Loki could handle it, even though he couldn’t. He  _ wanted _ to complain about the elder’s obnoxious bubble nature that couldn’t be squashed by  _ anything _ . He wanted his child to constantly chase after his cousins, pranking them at ever turn. The next generation could repeat the good things from their parents. 

But Thor was gone, and as he’d found out later, Sif was likewise a pile of ash scattered to the wind. They should have been married by now, ideally with Sigyn giving birth in the middle of the ceremony just for kicks. They should be trading stories about having to fire up the kitchens in the middle of the night for obscure cravings, of foot and back massages that they could never refuse because  _ hello Loki, I’ve got a whole person inside me _ ... 

“My King.” 

Loki bounced to his feet at the head healer’s summons. At least he’d finally become accustomed to his no-longer-new title. But the formal use alarmed him. 

“Is something wrong?” 

Eir shook her head. “Sigyn wants to see you.” 

They slipped out of the hall to various drunken shouts of good wishes. 

X 

Eir’s reassurances had been an absolute lie, Loki knew instantly. She’d wanted to avoid alarming the gathered crowd. That made sense, but he resented it. 

It felt too much like his constant reassurances of Astrid when her baby was already long dead. 

Sigyn had stationed herself in a bathtub half-full of water. That made sense -relaxing, easier to clean up- except she was now clutching at the side, face scrunched up in pain, as a healer did  _ something _ down near her- 

This was his  _ wife _ giving birth, and he was still so awkward with it. 

Loki knelt next to her, putting a comforting hand on her hair. “It’s going to be fine, my love. They’ll fix-” 

At his concerned, questioning glance, one of the healers chimed in. “The child is breech, with its legs catching on Sigyn’s pelvis. We’re having to...  _ maneuver _ it into the correct position so it can be born.” 

“Right. Good. Do what you have to.” 

Sigyn grabbed him by the hair with strength he was surprised she still possessed. She dragged him down to eye level and glared at him with the force of Ragnarok. 

“If you... even  _ think _ of putting that  _ thing  _ anywhere near me again... You’re going to lose it.” 

“Duly noted, my Queen. I love you.” 

Sigyn started laughing, and relaxed just a bit. The healer tending to the baby let out a happy exclamation, as the spindly little body slipped out. The head followed with the next contraction, and after a few seconds of attention from the healer, cries filled the room. 

“You’ve got a little boy.” 

At that, Sigyn began to laugh hysterically, and collapsed back into the water with a splash. Loki lifted her out gently and laid her on the tile beside the tub, realizing she’d already fallen asleep. Well. She’d certainly earned a break. 

The healer handed him the baby, and he burst into tears in an instant. “Hello there, little one.” 

Cleaned of the bulk of the messy birth fluids, the newborn was absolutely perfect. Bald save a dusting of fine blonde hair, newborn-blue eyes. Only the faint traces of blue on his palms and the soles of his feet told of his mixed blood, and the barely noticeable line patterns that matched Loki’s own. He’d modified his glamour to stop hiding them some years previously. Why hide who he was? Everything that had ever happened in his life, from his illegitimate conception and birth to every pain and joy of a childhood in the light of the palace and the shadow of his brother, to his death at that brother’s hands and escaping Hel thanks to his mothers, to obliterating half of the universe, to finding Sigyn... That was who he was. Had anything gone differently anywhere in the story, he would be someone completely different. Part of him was fine with that idea, but the newborn child in his arms would not exist if just one thing had changed. And that was something he could not stand. 

“Hello, my little Fenris.” 

X 

Hel really wasn’t anywhere near as bad as Frigga had been led to believe. It was  _ quiet _ , it was  _ peaceful _ . There was even a  _ library _ . 

There were no children here, and she assumed they had their own place to go to, with someone to look after them. That would have been her ideal afterlife, if she could pick one. But she couldn’t, so no use complaining. 

Hela had ruled in a way the realm that shared her name. It gave them something of a culture, an identity. But she’d vanished along with half of her subjects, and the task fell to Frigga. If this were forever, it could have been so much worse. 

Friday is Frigga’s own day, she who is called goddess of motherhood. There was something so  _ perverse _ about her own experience in that arena. She’d had everything taken away from her, and every reason to be bitter and angry. But instead she is Friday’s child, loving and giving. 


End file.
